Sonorous
by GreenTea4062
Summary: A girl dies and replaces an anime character by the name of Mouri Ran. (SIOC!Ran/Kaito)


It was in a flash.

The moment my body was thrown out of the bike, I knew I was going to die.

Everything went black as soon as I register my body flying through the air. This wasn't the first time I was flying in the air, but this was the first time I hadn't had the thrill of flying.

As soon my body impacted the ground, I knew I had entered a sort of empty space. This kind of confirmed that maybe I died the moment I landed and skidded across the ground.

Well, I didn't want to think about it much.

But when I opened my eyes after all that, I was honestly going to hit my head to the nearest object.

I had woken up.

I wasn't dead.

Should I be grateful?

"I'm not dead?" was my first uttered sentence after I regained consciousness.

Silence greeted me and I stilled.

I could feel that a blanket was around my body. I could feel this body.

I wasn't hurt, and that fact was impossible. Because I was thrown from my bike, which I remembered was going for about 80 km/hour, at the very least.

I felt sore. But that was all.

Getting up with no difficulty whatsoever, I knew instantly this wasn't my body.

No. Logic dictated that a body that was thrown across the ground wouldn't feel this light. And to add to that, I wasn't on pain killer, so...

I stared at my hands.

Dainty, long fingers. There were faded bruises on my hand and now I had callouses?

I knew it. This was just like countless fanfictions plot out there.

I have invaded a foreign body.

How I didn't doubt this kind of thought was beyond me, but something told me that my ridiculous assumption was right.

* * *

Checking my reflection, I knew well enough that someone must either hate me or love me to put me in this situation.

Instead of dying, I was in another body.

Great, wasn't it?

The face I was wearing now wasn't mine. This face was way too pretty and this body was fit. My body wasn't. Even though I wasn't fat, I wasn't lean. I was too lazy to be this fit.

Sighing over the faucet, I kept my eyes on the mirror. I still couldn't believe that this kind of stuff was possible, but this was slapping me right in the face. I had to accept this.

Whatever had caused this was my death, which wasn't my fault, to begin with. My bike, which had killed me, couldn't brake when I was over 40 km/hour. Maybe someone had been tampering the brakes, or maybe my bike was simply just broke. Whichever it may be, I didn't want to mull over that right now. I had this problem to think of.

"What are you doing, Ran-neechan?"

Freezing was my first reaction to hearing that voice.

There was no mistake. That was Takayama Minami's voice. That voice was speaking Japanese and it was coming from below the faucet.

Slowly, I glanced down.

Only to see a boy in a pair of too-large glasses wearing pajamas.

Shit. This can't be what I think it was, wasn't it?

But this was a piece of big evidence. Said evidence was staring at me with his cute, innocent eyes.

Glancing back to my current reflection, I eyed this face.

I was soon deflated.

I'm Mouri Ran?

Damn. Why couldn't I be anyone else?

* * *

Yes, I am now Mouri Ran.

Screaming definitely won't help me get out of this, that I knew. But still. This was too surreal even for me.

"Memory lost?" the boy in front of me repeating what I had just said.

"Mhm." Thank goodness I knew the Japanese word for 'memory loss', which is 'kioku soushitsu'.

"But..." the boy gaped at me, disbelief written clearly across his face, "but to not remember how to speak Japanese..."

"For your information, I remember plenty Japanese but I'm not fluent in it," I said in Japanese. Well, I had studied Japanese in university, but I'm no native. Even if I wasn't confident in my ability to speak Japanese, it was no use lying about not knowing Japanese at all.

"But Ran-neechan, you're mother tongue is Japanese! You're Japanese!"

Whelp, this boy sounded desperate. Should I apologize for being nonchalant about this?

"You should be grateful that I can understand you, Conan-kun."

Leaning back, I snorted. That was still uttered in Japanese, but my head was over-worked at this point. I wanted to speak in English or Indonesian right about now, but I doubt it would help me get out of this boy's sight.

"Why is oji-san is out at this time ―" the boy began to complain as his eyes went around the living room, "You need to go to the hospital, Ran-neechan!"

"Oji-san?" I lightly tapped my chin and my lips formed a mischievous smile, "My father?"

"You remember that but you don't remember me and how to speak Japanese?" Conan ― er, Shinichi ― shot me an incredulous look.

"_Hey, just drop it. It's not like I wanted this in the first place_," I grumbled, this time in English, rising my hand up in my own defense.

"_But what caused your memory loss? Nothing happened yesterday,"_ the boy spoke in accented English while gaping at me for spewing English better than almost every Japanese out there.

"_Who knows?"_ I shrugged my ― Ran's, to be exact ― shoulders, "_I've woken up like this."_ There, I said the truth. The full truth.

"Ran-neechan..."

There it was, the pained look that was uncharacteristic of a child that this boy was supposed to be. A moment later, he perked up in Japanese, "Do you remember Shinichi-niichan? You remember him, right?"

"Hmm..." I closed my eyes, making it looked like I was trying to remember.

"How is it, Ran-neechan?" the boy voiced out, uncharacteristically timid.

I smiled lightly and decided to answer in Japanese, "I remember."

Well, it would be too cruel if I say I didn't remember Kudou Shin'ichi. Especially to this kid.

"Thank goodness," the boy patted his own chest in relief.

Amused, I added with a grin, "Well, I remember him as a good-for-nothing idiot Detective-wannabe!"

Pftt, Conan's troubled look was priceless.

Worth it? Hell yeah.


End file.
